It May Not Seem Like It, But
by daisygirl101
Summary: It's just a date, why did he seem so bitter about it? And why do her cheeks flush when he is the subject? It may not seem like they could be an item, but...


Yes! I have finally started writing for the greatest TV show ever! :D

Anyone else as excited for Season 2 as I am?

Elementary © CBS

* * *

A loud clang interrupted Joan's weekly assigned reading. She sighed, put down her book, climbed out of bed, and walked down the creaky stairs.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Afternoon Watson. I am simply running another experiment, no need to worry." He continued to pour various colored liquids into bottles and awaited their reactions.

"Right. Maybe you should tone it down a little, so you don't, you know, blow up our home?" She asked, but it was more like a command, a command he probably wouldn't listen to.

"Relax a bit Watson. I clearly know what I am doing. Shouldn't you be getting ready for that date of yours?" Her head shot up. Not to mention she could almost hear disgust in his voice when he used the word 'date'.

"How did you-"

"Coffee cup in the trash can has your light lipstick marks on it. It also has 'Call me, Andrew' written on it with a phone number. I can only assume you called him since you were on the phone last night." She sat quietly on the couch and watched him. "I believe you're going out for dinner in a few hours, around 7, yes? And knowing how women take so ridiculously long to dress up for one night just to impress, I suggest you start getting ready." She shook her head and sighed. He was such a pain in the ass…

"And here you are, telling me to get ready, when you're standing here in sweats and a T-shirt."

"I'm not the one who has a date," he said, glaring over his shoulder slightly.

"What happened to privacy?"

"Privacy? I believe you made your conversation rather known, with your laughter and such. I could hear you from my room upstairs."

"Well that still doesn't make eavesdropping ok."

"I wasn't eavesdropping, I was trying to get some sleep, for once. You were just being loud." She shook her head. She knew she wasn't going to win an argument with Sherlock, let alone this one. She just continued to watch him work.

She liked seeing him work. There was this element about him, this mystery, that he refused to share, but it could almost be seen when he worked. The way he was so focused on his work, the way he looked at every detail, it was all so inviting to Joan. She couldn't get enough of it.

But what she adored even more was listening to and watching him play the violin. His fingers gracefully glided over the strings in such a way that Joan couldn't take her eyes off of. And the sound… the sound was beautiful. It had lured her to sleep many a night. She remembered one particular night when she couldn't find sleep, he sat in his room and played his violin. It was calming, and Joan knew that he knew she couldn't sleep. She liked to think he did it on purpose, to try and get her to sleep. But that was an absurd idea of course. Sherlock wasn't sweet on anyone, much less considerate enough to do something like that for another. It wasn't in his nature, and Joan was learning to live with it.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she realized she was pretty much day dreaming about Sherlock. No way that was going to fly. She had a crush on the Andrew she met yesterday, not Sherlock…. Right?

"Watson!" Sherlock yelled. Her head snapped up. He went to say something, but stopped himself. Joan had to egg him on a bit.

"Yes?"

"You'd better get ready. Your date will be here in two hours." There was that tone again. He sounded bitterer on the word 'date'. Nevertheless, she got up from the couch and went to her room to get ready.

* * *

A little less than two hours later, Joan came down the stairs wearing a simple blue cocktail dress with a black cardigan and a pair of black heels. She had a small black handbag hanging from her right arm as she held the rail with her left arm while descending the stairs. Sherlock sat in his chair facing her. He was busy with something, but looked up after she came down the stairs. When she looked over, she realized he had the violin on his lap. Her face read disappointment, something he definitely noticed.

"Eager to impress, huh?" She looked down at her outfit.

"Well, no…"

"To what high class restaurant is he taking you?" She paused for a moment. She was always impressed how he just knew so much.

"It's none of your concern Sherlock. Just play your violin." The last sentence sounded more like begging than an instruction. But he, for once, listened anyway, and began to play a soft melody. She smiled and leaned on the doorframe that led to the living room. She got lost in the music and happily watched him play. A doorbell interrupted his music, much to her displeasure. She started to shift toward the door, but Sherlock beat her there.

"Hi, I'm looking for Joan?"

"You must be Andrew. Joan has told me so little about you," Sherlock said. He scrutinized the life out of Andrew. Sherlock was about to continue, but Joan knew that was a bad idea.

"Andrew, hi," Joan said, stepping in front of Sherlock, who looked somewhat displeased about the interruption. "We'll be back in a few hours."

"Well, I've got some errands to run so I won't be home until late." Joan gave him a look. "Relax Watson. An old friend reached out to me for some help. I told him I would be there." The way her name rolled off his tongue sent chills down her spine and almost made her breath hitch. She nodded and stepped out with Andrew. She glanced one last time at Sherlock before taking Andrew's arm and walking down the stairs. She heard the door close behind her.

"Well, good evening, Joan." She smiled in return. She climbed into the passenger side of his car and they drove off to dinner.

* * *

She laughed again at Andrew. She was really enjoying herself. They had finished dinner and decided to talk some more.

"So Andrew, what do you do?"

"I'm a receptionist for a hotel by Times Square. It's not that bad of a job. You meet some interesting people. What about you? Aren't you like a sober companion or something?" She nodded.

"I used to be. I'm a consulting detective for the NYPD now." He nodded.

"Sounds like a thrilling line of work. I bet it's dangerous."

"It is, but once you learn to trust your partner, the one you work with, you feel safer," Joan said. She could almost feel the slightest pink tint on her cheeks.

"And you live with your brother…?" She laughed slightly.

"No, Sherlock isn't my brother. I work with him as a consulting detective." Andrew gave her a confused look.

"Then why would you live together if you're just work partners?" She went to speak, but stopped herself. "Was he like, your last client when you were a sober companion or something?" She nodded.

"Yeah, he inspired me to become a detective and he's teaching me everything he knows. So I just haven't moved out," she said cheerily, as if it was something to be proud of. He nodded.

"Alright, I guess I can try to understand that." She smiled. He called for the bill to the waiter that walked by before turning back to her. "Would you like to come by my place for a while? It would just be us." Joan considered the offer for a minute.

"As nice as that sounds, I think I should get home. I have a case I need to work on a bit more," she said. "Sorry, maybe another time?" Joan asked. He nodded.

"Yeah. Another time." Andrew paid the check as Joan thanked him for dinner. "Sure. This was fun. I'd like to do it again soon."

"I think that would be a great idea," Joan said. Andrew started to get up, so Joan grabbed her cardigan and his arm and headed out the door.

* * *

He drove her home. All the lights were off, so she assumed Sherlock was still out on his 'errands'. Though she wouldn't put it past him to sit in the dark. Andrew got out and helped her out of the car. They walked up the steps together. The door was locked, which usually meant Sherlock wasn't home. He never kept the door locked, which in her opinion was stupid. Perhaps he was just too lazy? Or maybe he was so cocky and arrogant that he assumes no one would dare break into the home of Sherlock Holmes? She unlocked the door and walked inside.

"Well, thank you for tonight. Would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee before you hit the road? I know you work the nightshift." He chuckled and stepped inside.

"That would be great." She closed the door behind Andrew and shrugged off her cardigan. Joan turned on the lights in the kitchen and in their workroom, which led into the kitchen. Andrew gazed over the files on the table. "Seems like you keep busy." She chuckled.

"My partner kind of keeps us busy. He's great at what he does, so he gets a lot of cases." Andrew nodded and walked towards Joan. She was busy making coffee at the counter. She felt his arms go around her waist and he nipped lightly at her neck. She set the coffee cup down. "Um, Andrew?" He turned her around so she was pressed between the counter and him. She could feel his breath on her skin.

"Yes?"

"What are you-" She was not given a chance to reply before he crushed his lips onto hers. Joan was taken back. This was moving way too fast for her liking. Oh how she wished she paid attention during Sherlock's single stick lessons. She tried to back up, but he moved with her, grinding his hips into her. Joan then heard a distinctive 'click'. She felt the cold metal on her wrist. Looking over at the table in the other room, Joan noticed Sherlock's pair of handcuffs was no longer on the table. The pair was now what was holding her left wrist to the kitchen drawer. "Andrew…"

"Joan, I really like you. A lot. And unfortunately you're moving too slow for me, so you'll just have to catch up." Her eyes widened as she took a swing at him with her right fist, luckily contacting with the left side of his jaw. He stumbled back as she looked at the counter for anything she could pick the lock with. Luck was definitely not favoring her tonight. "You little bitch, you're going to pay for that." Joan pressed herself against the counter, trying to break out of the handcuffs that held her in place.

She swung at him again, but this time he caught her arm and held it. With his other hand, he unzipped her dress, completely breaking the zipper entirely. She screamed for help, which earned her a slap. He pulled the dress down completely, leaving her in her underwear. She screamed again, earning another slap. Joan was strong, but Andrew was stronger. She tugged and tugged on her restraints, but nothing would help. She was stuck. He crushed his lips onto hers again. His free hand began to feel her up. Joan began to feel tears slowly come down her cheeks. Andrew paused for a breath and she screamed for the third time. He raised his hand to slap her.

"That's enough." Both Andrew and Joan stopped and looked into the dark living room. Joan could see someone sitting in that chair by the fireplace. They stood from the chair, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. They walked into the lit workroom. _Sherlock…_

"Oh look, it's your work partner, come to save the day. Excuse me, but I kind of have an issue at hand, so if you could just go back into the dark that would be great." Sherlock didn't move back. Instead, he took slow steps toward Andrew and the trapped Joan. Andrew shoved Joan to the ground and stepped towards Sherlock, who stood a bit taller than Andrew.

"I suggest you untie that woman," Sherlock calmly said, crossing his arms. Andrew laughed.

"Seriously? That's the best you've got? Some police detective you make," Andrew said as he started walking back toward Joan, who was curled in a ball the best she could be on the floor now. She looked cold. Her eyes were almost begging him for help, a look he'd never seen from her.

Sherlock grabbed his shoulder, turned around, and struck him in the same place Joan had earlier, now drawing blood. Andrew stumbled back and onto his back on the ground. Sherlock grabbed him by his collar and rammed him against the wall. Joan watched in fear. Andrew managed to knee Sherlock in his rib cage, making Sherlock drop Andrew. Andrew got to his feet and punched him in the jaw, not as hard as Sherlock had punched Andrew, but Andrew had a ring on, leaving a scratch mark. Sherlock's new scratch started bleeding, but he managed to get a hold of Andrew again.

"Get out. Now." Sherlock dropped Andrew to the ground and he scurried out the front door. Sherlock watched him leave.

"Sherlock…" Joan whimpered from her place on the ground. He whirled around to look at her before walking to the table in the workroom. He picked up the key from the table, walked over to where she was hooked onto the kitchen drawer, and freed her. Immediately she brought her arms down cover herself and shivered. Sherlock sighed and shook his head. He yanked his T-shirt off. Joan widened her eyes.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Lift your arms up Watson." She slowly did. Joan trusted him. He slipped his shirt on over her. She brought her arms back down and wrapped them around herself. Joan instantly felt warmer and more covered up.

The now shirtless Sherlock picked her up into his arms. He carried her over to his chair and sat down, letting Joan rest in his lap with her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. Her head was placed in the crook of his neck and he kept his arms wound around her waist, as if something was going to attack her again. Sherlock slowly rubbed her back as she let the last few tears fall. Joan went to wipe them away, but Sherlock caught her arm, slightly startling her. He placed it back around his neck. Then he brought his own hand up to dry her tears slowly. He kissed her forehead and wrapped arms around her waist again.

He'd never been given the opportunity to hold her like this, and he was enjoying it much more than he thought he would. Sure, he knew his affections for her were becoming more than a friendly admiration. But when Andrew went after her, he knew he was going to have to babysit her for a few days. At first it seemed like a chore, but now that he got to hold her, he was rather looking forward to looking after Joan for the next few days.

"Breathe Joan. Nothing can hurt you now." She snuggled closer to him. He gave her a light squeeze to reassure her of her safety. She thought she liked the way her last name sounded in that British accent of his, but her first name? No. She didn't like the way he said it. She _loved _the way he said it. His cheek rested atop her head.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," she whispered as her broken brown eyes gazed into his comforting green eyes. "I didn't think you'd be the one to save me," she said. Joan traced the various outlines of his tattoos, which in her opinion, made him even more attractive. She nuzzled her head back into the crook of his neck.

"It may not seem like it, but…"

"But?"

"But I care for you Watson." She pulled her head away to look up at him again. Her hands were now pressed up against his bare chest. She nodded for him to continue. "You've changed my life so much, and at first I had that friendly version of love, but I know it's something else now." She felt her cheeks warm up. Sherlock caught this and smiled. He gave her a smile she'd never seen before; a smile a boyfriend only gives his girlfriend. So in return she gave him a smile all girlfriends save for their boyfriends especially.

"Sherlock," she started with a light chuckle, "I love you." He grinned and dipped down for a kiss. He stole her lips with one swift movement. The way he kissed, it was different than anything Joan had ever felt. She could feel the electricity pulsing through her veins, something she never thought was physically possible. He held her waist with one arm and had the other hand tangled in her hair. Both of her hands were placed on his shoulders, griping tightly. Her hands made their way into his hair.

He began to use his tongue to explore her mouth. She knew he was memorizing her. Every bump, tooth, and indentation in her mouth he would know by the time this was over. She sighed. They were both enjoying this way too much. Of course, that didn't stop either of them. Both Sherlock and Joan had been holding back on this too long, and they both knew that for a fact. Sherlock especially.

Finally, their lungs could no longer take it, and they both needed air. Panting and gasping, both broke off from one another. Sherlock leaned his forehead onto hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He shifted her closer to him on his lap. She found his lap- and his T-shirt- extremely comfortable.

The clock chimed midnight, snapping them a little more awake. Sherlock looked at the clock, then back to Joan who yawned. He stood with her in his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. Pushing the door open with his back, he carried her in and gently set her down in bed. Joan laid down immediately, curling up under the blankets. He kissed her forehead and turned to leave, but she grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay please. I'm…" She stopped to embarrassed to continue. He turned, took both her hands in his, and knelt by her bedside.

"He won't hurt you anymore Joan. I promise. Get some sleep." Sherlock kissed both her hands before letting them slip from his grasp. She instantaneously missed the feel of her hands in his.

"Please." He could hear the begging in her voice. He stopped again and sighed. Sherlock desired more progress on their current case, but he knew he loved Joan. He knew babysitting her for the next few days while she made her full mental and physiological recovery from tonight's events was going to be a task. He sighed again before turning back to her. The only things the light that poured in from the window seemed to illuminate were her eyes. They still shadowed a broken, yet beautiful, woman.

He wandered over to the other side of the bed and took his jeans off. He climbed into bed with her and got under the covers. He opened his arms to her, an offer she gladly took. Joan rested her head and hands onto his chest as he wrapped arms around her waist, remembering that she still wore his shirt. He chuckled, and he had a feeling he either A) wouldn't get it back, or B) would get it back, but he'd see in her in it often. He began to deduce other possibilities and ran a hand through her hair. He lightly stroked it as her breathing became rhythmic. He smiled and kissed her forehead before closing his eyes and deciding that maybe, just for one night, he should try and sleep.

* * *

First Elementary fic, check :D

I just love the two of them together! I need Season 2, like, now!

If asked, I may continue writing for Elementary. But right now this is the only planned oneshot. A chapter story was slightly considered, but it resembles too much similarity to one of my current stories.


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